A Second Chance
by RedheadScorpion
Summary: What if Liz and Red met in different circumstances? What if Liz accepted a job as a carer to a quadriplegic, criminal Red? Can she give him a second chance at life? AU.


I have an idea for new story. Please be aware English is not my first language so I apologize for mistakes. Feel free to let me know if its something you would like more of.

* * *

 **A Second Chance**

"I apologize for being late," Elizabeth muttered with a forced smile as she took a seat across from the man seated to her right. "So many things went wrong this morning." Her face flooded with color at remembering slipping in her socks on dog pee that morning from Hudson. She hoped the smell of urine didn't linger, especially on today of all days.

Today was a very important job interview, the first call back Elizabeth had had. The advertisement hadn't said much; Just that the job would require someone to supervise a quadriplegic in their mid-fifties. She hadn't had prior experience in a role such as this, which was why Elizabeth was surprised she got called back for an interview. She had just only graduated from the University of Chicago, wanting to go into the field of law, but in the meantime, she had needed a job to tie her over.

While Dembe went through the pages of her resume, Elizabeth stole a glance around the room nervously while clasping her hands in her lap. She had first assumed the house would look like some sort of care home with machine hoists to lift someone up and medical supplies. To her surprise, the surroundings looked more of that of an expensive hotel room than anything else. There were a few items that looked valuable, like decorative vases and a large dark mahogany dining room table. There was a large fireplace that seemed recently dusted. Everything was orderly in the old house.

As Dembe scanned a few pages of her resume, she glanced towards an open doorway while shuffling in the armchair nervously, wondering where the person she would be caring for was, as according to the job advertisement.

"So Miss Scott," Dembe began softly, bringing Elizabeth's gaze back to him. "Do you have experience with this sort of thing? Judging by your resume, I would say not."

"Yes, that's right," she admitted, wiggling a little in the cushion. "I have no prior experience with this sort of thing. In fact, I just finished and graduated from The University of Chicago. I was... interested in getting into Quantico, but... that hasn't panned out so far."

"Then why did you apply for this job?" Dembe seemed an expert at keeping his expression concealed. Elizabeth had no idea what he was thinking and the fact that she couldn't, it made it all the more nerve-wracking.

Elizabeth faltered for an answer, pressing her lips together. "Ah, to be honest, I... I really need the money." She hesitated, wondering if that would immediately cross her off the list as a potential candidate, her honesty. She unclasped her fingers, turning her wrist up, stroking the inner part of it where her scar was as a way to soothe herself. "As no doubt you are aware, financial times have been... hard. I really-"

"Have you been a carer before?"

"Um, as I just said, I-"

"-Do you know what quadriplegia is, Miss Scott?"

Finally, something she had a loose understanding of. "Um, isn't that where you can't use your legs? You're essentially stuck in a wheelchair?"

"Yes, I suppose that is one way of putting it. There are varying degrees, but in the case of Raymond, he has limited capacity to use his hands, and complete loss of his legs. Would that bother you?"

"No, though I imagine it bothers him a real lot, not being able to use his legs." It came out of her mouth without thought. She smiled weakly, hoping Dembe would see a bit of good humor in her words. He didn't. "God, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of-"

"-Are you able to come here on weekends?"

"Yes, Sir. Yes, I am. I'm available both weekends and weekdays."

"And you have your own transport?"

"Yes, I do. I have a car that I share with my boyfriend, but he mainly walks to work. He's a...a teacher's assistant."

"I think it would be best if you meet Raymond first. He'll decide, if you'll follow me."

Elizabeth hesitated, wondering if she had heard him correctly. "Excuse me? If I meet-"

"Raymond, is his name. You'll be looking after Raymond. He would like to meet you first."

"Oh, okay." Momentarily lost for words at the unexpectedness of it, Elizabeth stood.

"Follow me," Dembe said, ushering her along. Elizabeth followed him through the open doorway into another room. There was another open doorway and Elizabeth hesitated behind Dembe as he knocked. "Raymond?" he called. "Raymond, I have Elizabeth here to see you. She came about the job."

There was no answer. Elizabeth found herself stroking her scar again out of nerves.

"He's not the most social person, at times," Dembe explained quietly. "Sometimes he takes a bit of encouraging. Excuse me."

"Of course." Elizabeth waited outside while Dembe entered the room. She thought she faintly heard another voice while Dembe spoke softly to another person.

"Yes, who is it?" she heard a man ask in a clear curt voice. The man sounded annoyed, as though he was being interrupted.

"Elizabeth Scott is here about the interview for the position, Raymond. I thought you should meet her before deciding-"

"-Yes, bring her in."

Dembe appeared in another room and Elizabeth smiled at him. "Come in, Miss Scott. He is ready to see you now."

Elizabeth swallowed hard, bracing herself before entering the room apprehensively. She didn't know what to expect. There was a wheelchair in the middle of the room near a chessboard set. A man was sitting in the wheelchair, dressed neatly in a vest, white button-up shirt, and trousers. This must be Raymond, Elizabeth realized as the man glanced up as she entered. This must be the man she would be caring for. He wasn't entirely what she was expecting. His hair was short and balding, and he had an immediate air of superiority about him. Both Dembe and the man simply stared at her as if waiting for her to do something exciting.

"Ah, hello," she got out, her voice embarrassingly shaky. "My name is Elizabeth and I... I applied for the job position." She moved closer, staring back as the man tilted his head, his gaze steady on her, somewhat unnerving and penetrating. Without thinking she reached out, offering a hand for him to shake.

With a quiet sigh through his nostrils, the man's eyes dropped to her hand pointedly, his mouth moving as though he was chewing on something. He shook his head slightly, his eyebrows arched. Realizing her error and immediately recalling Dembe's comment about him having limited use in his arms, Elizabeth moved her hand away, her cheeks coloring in shame.

"God, I'm sorry," she muttered with a short laugh. She didn't know how to act at all. "I didn't-"

"-Did you drive here?" he spoke over her, his voice low.

"Um, yes, I did. I have a car so-"

"-And you're available to work weekends?"

Elizabeth glanced at Dembe shortly before returning her gaze to the man. He was still staring. Did he not know it was sometimes considered hostile and rude to stare so openly and for such extended periods of time?

"Yes, I'm available to work weekends. It's no problem."

"Where do you live?" His questions were rapid, and sudden. Elizabeth was not sure why he needed to know.

"Um, about a twenty minute drive from here."

"Do you live alone?"

Did she live alone? Why must he know? "Actually, I don't. I live with my boyfriend Tom." She saw the muscle beneath his eyelid twitch, then he finally looked away, glancing back down at the chess board in front of him, seeming to have lost interest in his interrogation of her. Before she even knew what she was doing, Elizabeth said, "Like chess, do you?" The question was an anxious huff of breath that escaped her.

When the man, Raymond, lifted his chin to glance up at her again, Elizabeth felt her insides go cold as ice. She stepped back with a forced smile, returning her gaze to Dembe- the less intimidating of the two men.

"Come," Dembe said, and gladly, she followed him without a further look at the man. Once out of the room, Dembe turned to look at her. "He may seem scary at first, but Raymond is truly a good man. You'll see that in time."

"I'm sure, I will," Elizabeth grumbled sarcastically with a laugh. Still shaken by the man's severe demeanor, Elizabeth tried to focus on what she needed to know. "So, what hours would you prefer someone to be here by?"

"Usually eight AM to six PM of an evening."

"Right. And, as you saw by my resume, I have no credentials in dealing with anything medical or-"

"- I'll be the one mainly doing that, Miss Scott. What your job simply would entail is to occupy Raymond's mind and keep him company. Get him out of the house every now and then to a restaurant or a movie. That sort of thing. So you will take the job?"

Elizabeth faltered mid-stride beside him, her mouth falling open. Had she misheard him? "Pardon? Are you saying that you're offering me-"

"-Can you start tomorrow, soon as possible? Eight AM?"

She wasn't sure whether to believe him. "So you're offering me the job out of other candidates who probably have more experience than me in a carers position?" she asked slowly. She couldn't believe it.

"Yes. Raymond likes you."

"Likes me?" She almost laughed incredulously, recalling immediately the way he had stared at her. So coldly, so piercingly with his green eyes. "It didn't seem as though he liked me when you just introduced me to him?"

"Raymond is funny like that. Truth is, he has been waiting for someone like you for a long time, Miss Scott."

Waiting for someone like her? Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief, trying to judge whether he was just trying to get into her good books. She couldn't believe what he was telling her.

"So... you want me to start tomorrow, soon as possible?"

"Yes, that would be best. And I take care of all that other stuff. Medication, etc. You are just here to keep Raymond company and, hopefully, brighten his mood. He needs someone to help take his mind off what has happened, someone to distract him."

Elizabeth licked her lips, glancing back down the way they had came in after exiting the room Raymond had been in. The idea of spending time with the man, when he sounded so short with her, so curt and straightforward, she found herself daunted. Hopefully, as Dembe said, he would come to like her and take it easy on her. Hopefully, in time, she would feel intimidated by him less.

Raymond's bellowing voice broke through her conversation. "Dembe," he called quite urgently in the other room.

Dembe smiled and excused himself while Elizabeth waited nervously, glancing around the room again. She couldn't help noticing there were no family photos of Raymond anywhere. There were various expensive-looking decorations, but no photos. What had happened to his family? Surely, at his age, he had one, didn't he?

The sound of Dembe's footsteps approaching shook her out of her distraction. "Miss Scott, Raymond wishes to speak to you more before you go."

She felt her stomach churn at the unappealing idea. She just wanted to call it a day, to be honest. A few minutes spent with the man's intrusive questions had been enough so far. "He does?"

"Just go back into the room. He won't bite. Well, not in a literal sense anyway."

Bracing herself with a sigh through her mouth, Elizabeth started back down the hallway again, her heels she wore for the interview clacking on the floorboards. Once she entered the room, she saw him how he was before, sitting in his wheelchair, positioned by the chess board. He looked up as she entered, his head falling to the side as his eyes scrutinized her in that same intimidating, judging way.

"I'm sure I don't need to grant you my permission to help yourself to a seat," he said, jerking his chin to an empty armchair across from him.

Taking his cue, Elizabeth strode forward, sitting in the armchair, crossing one leg over the other. He seemed to watch every movement she made. It was disarming.

"Is there something you wish to talk to me about?" she asked uncertainly. "I'm sure you already have been informed that I'm rather... unqualified for this job." She found herself stroking her inner wrist again with her thumb. She noticed his eyes drift, watching the movement. "If you're having your doubts, then I under-"

"-Do you get home much?" His voice was raspy and deep, as if he was parched and thirsty.

She bit down on her tongue as he interrupted her again. She wondered if this would be a developing pattern. "Do I get home much?" she repeated, confused. "Meaning what, exactly?"

"To Nebraska?"

Elizabeth felt her stomach tense a little. She didn't know how he knew where she was raised, with her adoptive father Sam. As far as she remembered, it hadn't been written on her resume. "How did you know I was raised in Nebraska?" she asked, unnerved.

Raymond turned his head, glancing back down at the chess pieces that lay untouched on the board, the corner of his mouth upturning. If she was hoping to get an answer out of him, she was in for a disappointment. "Although Dembe explained to you that your hours will be from eight AM to six PM, I'll need you to arrive earlier tomorrow morning."

"Earlier? What time specifically?"

"Seven thirty would be most appropriate. I have to meet a contact tomorrow morning. I have an... appointment, therefore you'll need to arrive earlier. Dembe will drive us in to the location, and I'll need you to escort me to my meeting place. Then you'll have half an hour free to yourself until I'll need you again." His words were direct, businesslike.

She took a deep breath, taking all the information in. "Of course, that's no problem. I can get here earlier. It won't be an issue."

He nodded once. "Very well, Lizzy."

He was obviously dismissing her, but the nickname, it stunned her. "It's actually Elizabeth or Miss Scott, not Lizzy," she said under her breath. "My name isn't-" He turned his head to look at her and something in his expression immediately made her falter. The muscle beneath his eyelid twitched again. "Okay then," she whispered, standing. "I'll see you tomorrow then, Raymond. Thank you so much for this opportunity, I'm really-"

"-Red." She lifted an eyebrow at him in question. "Call me Red. I prefer to be known as Red, rather than... Raymond." His face changed disarmingly; He suddenly looked ravaged, older. Weary, bone-tired. "Raymond is a man that... died a long time ago."


End file.
